Chapter 296: Chapter 291: Grade 2
Location:Obsidian Academy
Date/Ti:Mid Blazepeak, 9939 AZI
Realm:Lower Realm
The Trial Tower didn’t care who you were.
It didn’t care about your family, your sect, your connections, or how much gold your father had donated to the Academy’s restoration fund. It didn’t care about Temple backing or noble blood or the elaborate arrangent of your hair. It was an artifact older than the Academy itself — older than the Sundering, older than most of the civilisations that had tried to claim it — and its standards were set to a world that no longer existed. Pre-cataclysm cultivation levels. The bar hadn’t been lowered in ten thousand years.
You walked in. You cleared the floor. Or you didn’t.
Grade 2 required Floor 7.
Jayde stepped into the Tower’s entry formation at dawn. The transition was instant — one heartbeat in the echoing stone atrium, the next in a space that had no walls, no ceiling, no visible boundaries. Just the floor beneath her feet and the challenge ahead. The Tower constructed its trials from the entrant’s cultivation profile, building scenarios that tested the exact limits of their ability. No two runs were identical. No preparation could account for everything.
Environntal assessnt. Enclosed terrain. Visibility — limited. Hostiles — unknown count, unknown positioning.
(Feels like a Federation black-site clearance drill.)
Because it is one. Different technology. Sa principle. Survive the scenario or fail.
Takara was not permitted inside the Tower. He’d been left at the entrance with Ryo, who’d accepted kitten custody with the resigned expression of a man who understood that the creature on his arm judged everyone and had found him adequate. Barely.
Floor 7 threw formation traps. Layered, cascading, each one designed to exploit the weakness revealed by the previous trap’s resolution. Jayde moved through them the way Kazren had taught her — reading the formation architecture, not the surface pattern. The traps were pre-Sundering designs: elegant, ruthless, and built on principles that modern formation theory had lost. Most students brute-forced their way through with raw essence. The Tower rewarded that approach with harder traps.
Jayde dismantled them. One by one. Not with power — with understanding. The Fed eye saw the structure. Kazren’s training saw the blade-path through it. White’s conditioning gave her the body to execute in real ti.
[The third cascade is a mirror-lock,] Kazren said from the soul space. [It reflects your own technique back at double speed. Do not use the seventh form. Use the second — it has no reflection signature.]
She used the second. The mirror-lock shattered.
The combat portion ca last. A construct — not alive, but close enough to fight like it was. Inferno-tempered equivalent, built to the standards of a pre-Sundering warrior. Fast. Precise. Unforgiving.
She fought within cover. Heizan’s layers — Academy forms, controlled escalation, nothing that shouldn’t be there. The construct didn’t care about disguise. It cared about whether she could survive. She could. The construct fell in four minutes, and the Tower’s formation array pulsed once — acknowledgent, not congratulation.
Floor 7. Cleared.
[Your second-form execution has improved,] Kazren said. [The mirror-lock would have killed you three months ago.]
(Thank you.)
[That was not a complint. It was a asurent of how close to death you were previously.]
***
The results were posted on the Tower’s external display — jade panels that updated automatically when a student cleared a floor. No human involvent. No evaluators to bribe. No scores to contest. Cleared or not cleared. Binary.
Jayde Ashford. Floor 7. Grade 2.
iling Lushan. Floor 7. Not cleared.
The crowd gathered the way crowds always did around bad news — slowly, then all at once. The jade panels were rciless in their simplicity. No context. No explanations. No room for interpretation.
"Ashford cleared Seven in four months?"
"A Lushan failed, and so frontier nobody passed?" Soone else. Less of a whisper. The na still carried weight — old Temple nobility, even disowned.
"The Tower doesn’t lie. Can’t lie. It’s pre-Sundering."
That was the thing about the Trial Tower. You couldn’t accuse soone of cheating it. The artifact was incorruptible — ten thousand years of students had tried every conceivable thod, and the Tower had defeated them all. Its formations were self-repairing, self-calibrating, and entirely indifferent to external influence. Headmaster Qin couldn’t rig it if he wanted to. Nobody could.
Which didn’t stop people from trying to argue otherwise.
"She must have had advance knowledge of the trial configuration—"
"The Tower generates unique scenarios. There’s no advance knowledge to have."
"Then she’s hiding her real cultivation level. Nobody at mid Inferno-tempered clears Seven that fast."
The rumours were desperate, illogical, and self-contradicting — and they spread anyway, because resentnt didn’t require coherence. It just required an audience.
iling stood in front of the display for exactly twelve seconds. Her black hair was arranged with the elaborate precision of soone who’d spent an hour on it. Her red Core robes — still the sa single set, maintained obsessively — were pressed to perfection. Her hazel eyes showed nothing. Not surprise, not anger, not humiliation. Nothing. The careful, polished nothing of a woman who’d learned that expression was ammunition and refused to provide it.
She turned. Walked away. Her attendant Feng followed three steps behind, thin and anxious, his blistered hands tucked inside his sleeves. The distance between them — exactly three steps, not two, not four — was the asurent of a relationship built on control rather than trust.
iling didn’t look back at the display. She’d morised the results in those twelve seconds — Jayde’s clearance, her own failure — and she was already processing. The Tower couldn’t be blad. Couldn’t be argued with. Which ant the anger had nowhere to go but inward, and iling didn’t do inward. She redirected.
(She’ll aim it at .)
Not directly. Watch the faction. Not her — her people. She’ll use proxies.
The first duel challenge ca that evening.
A Core student nad Tao Yunhe — broad, Inferno-tempered, the kind of cultivator who led with his chin and followed with his fists. He’d cornered Jayde outside the Combat Hall with the rehearsed confidence of soone who’d been told this would be easy.
"Ashford. I’m calling formal challenge. Combat ring. Now."
[He has been watching you for eleven minutes from the north corridor,] Reiko said through the bond. [His stance favours his right side. Compensating for a weak left knee — old injury, poorly healed. His essence circulation has a hesitation at the fourth ridian that suggests rushed cultivation advancent.]
(I could see all of that from the way he walks.)
[I am being thorough.]
"On what grounds?"
"Nobody clears Floor Seven in four months without hiding sothing. I want to see what you’re hiding."
"The Tower already tested . Take it up with the artifact."
"I’m taking it up with you. Combat ring."
The Combat Hall’s duelling arena was a recessed circle of packed earth surrounded by formation barriers — protection for the audience, not the fighters. By the ti Jayde and Tao took their positions, forty students had gathered. Word travelled fast in enclosed spaces.
Heizan sat on the wall above the arena. Cross-legged. Bare feet dangling. Eating an apricot. His dark brown eyes — almost black, the only sharp thing about his otherwise forgettable appearance — tracked the fighters with the casual attention of a man watching sothing inevitable.
The duel lasted ninety seconds.
Jayde fought exactly the way Heizan had taught her to fight — Academy-standard forms, clean footwork, nothing that shouldn’t be there. She matched Tao’s Inferno strikes with textbook Torrent counters. She used the defensive patterns she’d drilled in his supplentary sessions — the ones designed to look like hard-earned competence rather than deliberate restraint. She let him push her back twice. Let him think he was winning.
Then she ended it. One sweep. One redirect. Tao’s own montum carried him off-balance, and her follow-through — a palm strike to the solar plexus, perfectly asured — dropped him.
Clean. Decisive. And absolutely nothing that a talented Grade 2 student couldn’t have done.
From the wall, Heizan took another bite of his apricot. The ghost of sothing crossed his weathered face — not a smile, but the settling of features that happened when a plan worked exactly as intended. His student had fought correctly. Had won without revealing anything that shouldn’t be seen.
He said nothing. He never did. He finished the apricot and watched the next challenger step forward.
***
The second duel was faster. A student nad Lin Zheng — Galebreath affinity, quick, aggressive, convinced the Tower result was sohow invalid. Sixty seconds. Sa approach: Academy forms, controlled engagent, decisive finish.
The third duel was the interesting one.
A woman nad Shen Yua — Core class, Grade 2, Radiance affinity. She didn’t call the challenge publicly. She approached Jayde after the second duel with the quiet efficiency of soone who’d been watching carefully and had drawn different conclusions than the crowd.
"You’re not showing what you can do," Shen Yua said. Matter-of-fact.
"I’m showing enough."
"I know. That’s why I want the match." She paused. "I want to see how you adapt when soone doesn’t fall for the pattern."
Shen Yua was better than the others. Her Radiance techniques were creative — light constructs that shifted mid-strike, forcing Jayde to adjust her positioning on the fly. She read the defensive retreats for what they were and refused to overextend. She fought smart.
More than smart. She fought like soone who’d been watching. Her first attack was a feint designed to trigger the exact defensive pattern Jayde had used against Tao — and when Jayde didn’t fall for it, Shen Yua’s eyes sharpened with sothing that looked like respect.
The arena shifted. No longer a test — a conversation. Shen Yua probed. Jayde responded with Heizan’s layer-one cover. Shen Yua adapted, attacked the gaps in the pattern. Jayde had to pull from Heizan’s layer two — the version of "Academy-standard" that was slightly better than standard, the contingency built for opponents who actually paid attention.
Two minutes. Jayde won because Heizan’s disguise architecture was deeper than any single opponent could penetrate in one match — each layer looked natural, each escalation plausible, each response exactly what a talented student should produce at that mont. The artistry wasn’t in the fighting. It was in the hiding.
Shen Yua stood up, dusted herself off, and nodded. "Thank you." She walked away. No anger. No humiliation. Just the satisfied expression of soone who’d gotten exactly the data she wanted.
(I like her.)
She is competent. Competent people are either assets or threats. Determine which.
[She will be more dangerous next ti,] Kazren added from the soul space. [She was mapping your responses. I recomnd varying your defensive patterns before your next encounter.]
***
Ryo was leaning against the Combat Hall’s exit when she walked out. Takara was draped across his forearm like a furry armband, blue-tipped ears tracking everything, large blue eyes communicating a detailed performance review that Ryo was rcifully unable to receive.
"Three duels. Three wins." Ryo’s tawny amber eyes were neutral. His posture was the studied non-posture of a man about to suggest sothing and wanting to appear casual about it.
"Three."
"People bet on those." A beat. "I know because I collected."
She stopped. "You bet on ?"
"I bet on mathematics. Three opponents, all Inferno or Galebreath focused, none above mid Grade 2. The probability of you losing was negligible." He reached into his robe and produced a small pouch. It clinked with the unmistakable weight of Bronze Embers. "Forty-seven Embers. Your cut is half."
"My cut."
"You fought. I managed the odds. Standard partnership." His expression didn’t change, but his hand went to the signet ring hidden under his collar — the unconscious tell. "Kiran took ten percent for enforcent. He stood at the ring entrance and looked threatening. It’s his primary skill set."
From sowhere behind the hall, Kiran’s voice carried: "I heard that."
"You were ant to."
Jayde took the pouch. Twenty-three Bronze Embers. Not a fortune — but real currency that could buy materials the rit system didn’t cover.
"Next ti," Ryo said, "I’d like advance notice. I can set better odds."
"You’re running a gambling operation."
"I’m running a probability assessnt service. The distinction is important." He paused. "Particularly if Headmaster Qin asks."
Takara transferred from Ryo’s arm to Jayde’s shoulder with the fluid precision of a creature returning to his rightful post after an unacceptable absence. He settled against her neck. His tail flicked Ryo’s hand on the way — not affection, but acknowledgent. Adequate custody. Barely.
***
Eden was waiting in the dicine corridor. Herb bag over one shoulder, blue eyes sharp, the quiet confidence of a woman who didn’t need to duel anyone because her transcript spoke louder than fists.
"Floor Nine," Jayde said. Not a question.
"Cleared yesterday." Eden adjusted her herb bag. "Grade 3."
Floor Nine. Grade 3. After four months. The sa tiline that had earned Jayde rumours of cheating had earned Eden... nothing. No challenges. No accusations. No duels.
Because Eden didn’t threaten anyone. She healed. She refined pills. She sat in the back of lecture halls and took notes with the thodical precision of soone building a knowledge base that would outlast everyone in the room. Nobody noticed quiet excellence when it didn’t co with a sword.
She’s smarter than all of them. Every single one.
(I know.)
"Congratulations," Jayde said.
Eden’s mouth twitched. The fractional movent that was her version of a full smile. "The Temple group tried to petition that my Tower run was ’anomalous.’ Instructor Lanhua told them the Tower has been producing anomaly-free results for ten thousand years and she wasn’t inclined to question it now."
"iling’s been busy," Eden added, tone unchanged. "Three Core students eating at her table every evening this week. Different students each night. She’s rotating — building layers, not a single group."
iling didn’t recruit openly. She never had. She’d never worn a Radiant Path badge, never attended Lanhua’s support etings, never aligned herself visibly with the Temple faction. She operated in the space between — directing, sharpening, positioning others to do what she’d planned. The Temple needed a weapon. iling had made herself indispensable.
(She’s building an army. One dinner at a ti.)
Her failure at the Tower will accelerate it. She needs a victory now — sothing public, sothing undeniable.
"Feng’s hands were freshly bandaged yesterday," Eden added. "New blisters. She’s been making him run errands across campus — to Temple-aligned students in other divisions."
Courier. She’s using him as a ssenger service.
(They need a sword. She IS the sword.)
"Noted," Jayde said.
They walked toward the ss hall. One newly minted Grade 2 student and one quiet Grade 3 prodigy — and a kitten whose ears swivelled toward every sound in the corridor behind them with the vigilance of a creature who trusted no one and approved of very few.
[Your mirror-lock response still had a half-second hesitation,] Kazren said.
(Let it go.)
[I will not.]
That evening, back at the Pavilion, Yinxin asked how the Tower went. Jayde told her about Floor Seven and the three duels and the betting and Eden’s quiet dominance and the half-second hesitation that Kazren would never stop ntioning. The wyrmlings were asleep in a pile near the warm stones. Green had left a plate of food — still warm, covered, the silent caretaking she never acknowledged. White’s training weights sat by the door, ready for tomorrow’s dawn session.
Ho. Then back out again. The rhythm of two lives, balanced on a blade’s edge.
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